


Will of the Light

by Pugsly123nine



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 18:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugsly123nine/pseuds/Pugsly123nine
Summary: From the first moment Klowbi (Cry) was first rezzed, his life led him into a constant battle of truths and morals. It's only when he meets Striker and Ross that Klowbi's life takes a turn for the better.This is a story of my Guardians leading to the Fall of Crota, the Red War, and Forsaken with their stories mixed in. There will occasionally be mentions or descriptions of sex or gore, that is why this is marked as Explicit. Chapters will be marked and it will be said in the before notes whether or not a chapter is NSFW.This is mainly here for my own practise and safekeeping, updates will be whenever I finish a chapter or feel like updating. This is not a set in stone writing peice.





	Will of the Light

If he could change anything about his past, it would be everything. He's regretted living this life from the moment his Ghost brought him back into it. He loved his Ghost, he made sure to always spend time to talk with her and show her various places, but the danger that he's run into and the trouble he's caused others made those cute, innocent moments seem next to worthless. He treasured them though.

He muttered another apology under his breath.

"Cry. . ." Clem cut off, her single eye peering at him worriedly and sadly, before flickering to the broken shell he craddled in his hands. He must have apologized to the former Ghost a million times, begging forgivness for using it as a cover up. He knew Clem didn't like using one of her own kind for this but it was this, fake their deaths and take on a new identity, finding new alliances, or end themselves for real. Or let their hunters track and kill them.

Walking amoung the red sand of Mars, Clem had begged him that they could still change, that he could learn to mute the whispers and ignore the visions. He'd agreed. They'd head towards the construction site of Earth's new defense city and become what they now called Guardians- formerly known as Risen. The Dark Ages were over. She planned out their false deaths, he'd burn a Fallen's corpse for ashes to resemble a burned human body, and broken peices of a Ghost to reselmble Clem. In the unforgiving plains of Mars, his hunters would only find the burned ashes, broken shell, some kind of Cabal cannon, bodies, and a torn peice of his hood on one of said Cabal bodies.

Then he could never be Cry again.

Now, hours later, he was almost done. And he was almost out of time. Cabal foot soldiers littered the space around a Dregs burned ashes, a Captain laid dead from its injuries only feet away with a peice of torn green cloth secured to the end of it's sword. next to the burned Dreg's ashes, a crushed Ghost shell was lying near a imprint of an outstretched, desperate hand. For what he had had on hand, it was a near perfect scene. He thought about leaving his signature dog tags behind as well, but the thought left as quickly as he entertained it. That was never going to be something he could just leave behind.

He left the pretend death-scene as it was. His trackers would find it soon enough, and come to the same conclusion- A scared, desperate Ris-Guardian was fleeing from his enemies, and ran into a Cabal squad, was caught unawares, and while exhausted from a desperate flee attempt- was killed.

He and Clem were silent as they quickly abandoned his treasured ship, and burned all of his current clothes and grabbed the Warlock clothes he wrestled off a corpse back on Io.

Everything he was doing, it was to ensure his escape, but he hated it all the same.

He was shrugging on the smooth, flowing robes on when Clem spoke up.

"What are you going to call yourself now? How will we find another ship?" He tried the final sash and grabbed her a new Ghost shell from his inventory as he thought over it. He was pretending to be a newly risen Guardian from Mars, so he didn't need a name immediately, but a ship was the problem. He didn't want to run into his hunters at all, new identity or not.

"Name can wait, I think, as for a ship, we'll have to search around these buildings for something that can get us to Earth at least. But hey! Look at your neat new shell. You're a real cutie in it." Clem blinked at him, but nodded. She was gloomy for another moment before she perked up a bit, dancing around him and showing off her new gleaming red shell that he had won in a bet against a aging man who had no need for a Risen Ghost shell.

They left the ship behind to eventually be buried in the flaming sand and trudged towards a vague direction, watching for buildings for working ships, or abandoned ones that could be scattered around the land.

They had approached their first series of buildings- an abandoned outpost of sorts- when Clem talked again.

"Did you think of a name yet?"

". . .Klowbi." It was the stupidest, most unsuspecting thing he could think of. It was stupid enough that it would seem stupid to pick it for a false name. Perfect cover.

". . .really?" Beneath her mechanical voice, he could hear the teasing laughs that soon shook through her shell. He sulked, searching through boxes as he repeated his mindset. She was still laughing but ultimately agreed.

"You know you can't blow my cover right? No more 'Cry'. No mistakes, it could cost us our lives. We'd be like those skeleton guys from that one game I had on the ship console." She nodded before her eye sparked in playful anger and she batted herself against his head.

"I told you to stop downloading those games!" He laughed as he opened a maintenance door towards the docking stations. Knowing Risen, after being one, he guessed that it might have been raided already, but it hadn't been, for the most part. Inside the vacant area were tools scattered around the floor, tool benches and broken machine parts were twisted among the wreckage as well. As luck would have it, a small, beaten down ship was only slightly damaged and covered in ruble.

It took two hours to unearth and fix it up, but looking at its scratched, beaten up paint, he had to admit it looked like something a baby Guardian would have for starting out. He buried his weapons that he had carried through the desert landscape incase he ran into more Cabal or Fallen. He was sad to leave them, but they were recognisable as his. He settled for a slightly scathed pistol that was resting on one of the toppled tool tables.

Then they were in the tiny ship, heading for their new destination. The Last City.


End file.
